


Because Seven Ate Nine!

by Runwildwithme (NectarinesAndSourThings)



Series: Tales from the Else [5]
Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Look the changeling is very confused and not particularly good at names., a not-unexpected lack of morals, changeling POV, it is what it is, outsider pov, teaching the fae how people work in exchange for chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13302171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NectarinesAndSourThings/pseuds/Runwildwithme
Summary: A changeling finds itself(themself? herself? Uuugh you’ll figure it out later, why is corporeality so complicated)at its posting, rather before anyone has gone missing. Nicknames are doled out, an argument is briefly had, and Dorm 8 gains a new member.





	Because Seven Ate Nine!

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this and then totally forgot about it for...oh, several months. I was going though all my google docs and found it again, and I can't believe I forgot to post this. I love it. I crack myself up with this shit. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy reading this little short as much as I did writing it!!

You’re standing just inside the door of Dorm 8, a backpack over your shoulder (it’s a pack and it’s on your back, but after walking through the campus you’re starting to think there may be more to a backpack than just that. The leather got a few looks, and also maybe it’s supposed to be detachable? Fucking humans.), and six girls are staring at you, wide-eyed and solemn-still. There are two on the couch, one standing in the middle of the kitchenette, a fourth sitting in the windowsill with one of the foldable lightning box things that almost every student has, and the last two are sitting on the floor in between the couch and the window.

What the fuck. What the fuck, there were only supposed to be five. Or rather, no, there _are_ supposed to be six girls in Dorm 8, but as far as you were informed, you were supposed to be replacing one of them. Fucking hell.

“Uh..” is, of course, what comes out of your mouth. Shit like this is why you get shit jobs like this, gods above and below.

Well, your mistress told you to blend in, and you imagine you look just as confused and alarmed as the human girls do. And they didn’t start screaming when you opened your mouth, so presumably you got the number of teeth right! ...not horribly wrong, anyway. Probably. You hope so. Gods, do you hope so. Teeth are hard, and if you made too many again you will deal with it without Jimothy’s help. For real: never again.

One of the girls on the couch visibly steels herself -sits up straighter and everything- and starts talking.

“Umm.. Are you maybe supposed to be at the banshee Sorority?”

Which. Just. what the fuck. The banshees have a sorority now? When did that happen? _Why_ did that happen?

You ..well, you intend to squint at her. You're not sure if the intent translates across your meat. God, it’s always a pain getting used to being _concrete_ and _physical_ again.

Apparently your first conscious try at a facial expression can be marked down as a success, because Steelspine clarifies.

“Ah, that is, the sorority where every time a girl is about to get taken a banshee warns them? I don’t know if it’s the same banshee each time, or ... Uh. I think they’re due for a disappearance pretty soon, so maybe...?”

Oh, that clusterfuck. You have no idea how a coterie of otherwise-unaffiliated changelings got together and decided they wanted to say “dibs!” for a whole sorority, much less how they actually managed. You also have no idea how the banshee figures into it, and you don’t want to, either.

“Oh fuck no,” you tell her. One good turn and all that. “If they think I’m horning in on their territory they’ll fucking rip me to shreds.”

Awkward silences: they cross dimensions, species, _and_ cultures.

...fuck, you don’t even look remotely like _any_ of these humans. Why is this happening to you.

The girl in the window seat looks up from her foldable clickety-clack lightning box and announces, somewhat dubiously, “...Seven _is_ a better number than six.”

Which. What. and also: why the fuck are the other five nodding along like that means anything? Your face does ...something, which is apparently indicative of your current emotional state.

“Six is a cowardly number.” Clickety tells you.

You take a moment to ponder that, but nope, that explains nothing.

The girl in the kitchenette mutters something about “Dorm 5 does ok..” and one of the ones on the floor whips around.

“Yeah, ‘cause all the girls in Dorm 5 are fucking nuts,” she says, knitting needles clacking together furiously

“The girls in Dorm 5 also get all the triple chocolate muffins each week.” Kitchen girl repostes, and the knitting needles halt.

All six of them are suddenly staring at you very intently, and if you were capable of being any stiller you’d definitely be doing that.

Apparently, Kitchengirls’ comment about triple chocolate muffins and how Dorm 5 has them is some great argument winner, because that’s how the humans all decide you’re one of them now.

This ....is not how this is supposed to go, you’re pretty sure.

Steelspine calls Administration and tells them Dorm 8 needs another bed, Kitchengirl makes everyone hot cocoa (and is immediately upgraded from Kitchengirl to Best Human because you have never tasted anything so _good_ ), and the other girl on the floor decides that if you’re living in Dorm 8 at Elsewhere U you should probably also be _enrolled_ at Elsewhere U. You decide that you’re going to call her Bossy.

“It’s cool,” she says, “Classes don’t start for another week, and Admissions has a great response time. We’ll have you enrolled by the end of the day. What are you interested in?”

“Uh,” you say. Which, yes, so brilliant. “Uh, I’m supposed to learn how to blend in? Maybe?”

They all look at each other and declare, nearly unanimously, “Psychology.”

Half a beat later, the other girl on the couch asks, “Does this make us bad people?”

Clickety just snorts, Needles, Steelspine and Bossy frown a little, but Best Human just hisses “Triple chocolate muffins,” at them in a tone you don’t usually hear outside of declarations of blood feuds, and the concern is shrugged away.

....You carefully tuck away the knowledge that moral quandaries can at least sometimes be solved by chocolate muffins.

“Oh, hey,” Easily Bought chirps at you, “What do we call you?”

Your name is.. is... Well, what the fuck ever, it’s not like anyone is expecting to hear your real Name from your lips (which you have!! You took _extra special care_ to not fuck up your mouth shit no you’re not going through that again), and furthermore it’s not like you haven’t been fucking this up from the very beginning.

“Fuck if I know who I’m s’posed to be. Call me whatever you want.”

They name you Muffin. Because of course they do. 


End file.
